Bite Series
by esuterutomoru
Summary: It was one time that Kaiba Seto couldn't restrain the monster within. Killua Zoldyck suffered his desire. Kaiba Seto x Killua Zoldyck, Modern AU, a companion fic to my Trick Series. Dub-con. Rated M.
1. First Bite

**First Bite**

x

The boy was a white flame. He flickered in front of his eyes like a spectre. His figure stood out among the rest of his class, then blended in again… appearing and disappearing, like his very being was trying to morse-code 'come get me'.

Seto supposed that was a poetic enough reason for why he whisked him away from the group and took him up to his office. It was also bullshit, something that silver-tongue authors loved to get hard for and fuck to. The truth was a lot more prosaic: he was having a shit day, he didn't have any whiskey in his workplace and he was a lonely bastard. It didn't help that the boy had the guts to look him directly in the eyes.

It didn't help he was staggeringly beautiful.

"Your name?" His patient drone of a baritone was now a rasp, full of shuddering breath and strangling desire.

"K… Killu-...aah!"

Perhaps he shouldn't have bitten him that hard first thing. But heavens, his blood was rubies on his tongue. His cry was an ode, a praise of his unforgiving greed, and his straining body was a small, breakable thing in his jaws, brittle as glass, singular and exciting. He'd bruise, he'd bleed, he'd curse him, he'd make him come harder than anyone before.

"No… no…! What-" What a tiny fist he had. He could bite it right off, it felt like… he should have felt that punch to his chest, but all he felt was the delicate squirms of the fresh prey in his claws.

When he tossed the boy onto his desk his monitor fell off and crashed. He stepped over and leaned in to suck the blood from the gaping wound on his neck. "Hhhhaa…" The shorts ripped when he yanked them from those slim legs. Fear was making the silky thighs cold as ice under his fingers. Small nails clawed on his face, trying to get to his eyes. Seto tilted his head and sank his teeth into the wrist of one, gnawing hard.

The boy screeched and he caught his gaze.

An angel on the cross… he'd fuck him half to death if he kept looking so horrified, agonized, so hurt, so pleading, lost, lonely, scared, tiny, just a small boy, a young boy, another little victim…

"I've never seen anyone like you before…"

Who was that? That rumbling, grating purr of pure ecstasy, was that him, really? Gathering the child into his arms to kiss blood onto his eyelids, to kiss blood to his fear-whitened cheeks, to kiss his own blood onto his beautiful ice pink lips… to kiss it deep into his mouth, onto his tongue, into his lungs, kiss all his sin into him…

"Killua…" He murmured onto his trembling lower lip. "Killua…" He murmured into the wound sobbing on his neck. "Killua, you beautiful child…" He sighed into his navel.

Then it was only the sound of kisses and licking. He was on his knees like never before, his tongue between the boy's thighs, teasing his virginity away, opening him up without mercy. The softness of him was maddening, clenching like a delicate velvet vice, yet giving, allowing his dominance inside. His tongue just brushed deep enough to roll over a small, swollen spot when air found the boy's vocal chords again and strung them on a high, hitching sob. Slim little fingers slid into his chestnut hair, clawing a fistful of his well-cut tresses. The cold thighs slid apart, trembling with the effort.

Seto gave a final, deep lick to reward him. When he was on his feet again, he saw the boy looking at him through glossy tears, his lips swollen and bruised from his biting kisses before. His hands have fallen back to the top of the desk. While he shrugged out of his jacket, took of his tie and shirt, loosened his belt, he watched him, licked him head to toe with his eyes.

"...hold on to me." He told him then, and the boy did; he sank all ten fingers into his upper arms, clinging like his life depended on it… and it possibly did.

When he was inside the boy screamed his lungs dry, cutting red welts onto his arms, thrashing, jolting, seizing in unbearable pain. He kicked, smacked his fist to his shoulder, breathed in, cried out, breathed in again and sobbed, looking up at him with his eyes on sapphire fire.

"Killu...a…" His voice cracked. His muscles danced, coiled into tension, waited for desperate release. He gripped one milk-white thigh and it almost got lost in his large hand. "God, you're beautiful…" The words slipped in a shiver between his teeth and he began moving, unable to keep hold of a rhythm. All instinct, pure need, greed, desire, want, lust, madness. And the silence he tried to hold onto broken by the growls of the animal inside.

"I'll never stop…"

"You… you… beautiful, mine, mine…"

"Curse me all you want, kill me, don't care, you'll be mine, always…"

"I'll fuck you until we both die…"

Morning would find him alone, snoring naked on the couch in his office. All his limbs ached, he was covered in claw-marks, he was wrung dry… but for the first time in years he slept until noon without trouble.


	2. Second Bite

**Second Bite**

x

The cold of dawn beat down on his back. God knows where he was. His feet were taking him down streets but his eyes weren't seeing the world. He stopped for lights, walked past pedestrians, slipped down corners without looking up. Outside occurrences lingered around him like flies around a corpse.

Killua Zoldyck was thirteen. He had spent his previous afternoon on a school trip to the headquarters of the town's (the world's) largest gaming company. He hadn't been particularly interested in the trip itself at first. Then the deeper they had walked into the building the more he had gotten curious about the top-technology security system installed. It had been starting to seem fun.

Then a hand that had seemed to swallow his own had grabbed him and pulled him down a different corridor. When he had looked up he had seen a sharp profile, a crisp charcoal suit and soft, brown hair. He had recognised the CEO at once from newspaper photos and his heart had skipped a stupid beat with excitement. He had had no idea what the man could want of him, he had wanted to ask, but had been too stricken by the moment to open his lips just yet. They had slipped past a pair of huge oak doors and…

Killua flinched as the memory struck like lightning. His fingers brushed over the wound in his throat. His lips turned down at once and he felt them tremble. The tears never came to him though… they were stuck welling behind his haunted eyes like they had always been.

That monster had bitten him. He had bitten him. It HURT, he had never known a bite could hurt that much, now the bites he's received in childish frays with his two elder brothers seemed like toothless nibbles. The wound throbbed, made itself known to him with every heartbeat, like an obnoxious, unwanted guest. And the worst of it was that it didn't only hurt.

It could have stopped there. It could have been 'just' rape. But it just had to feel good. It just had to echo down to his loins, coaxing him into confused, involuntary semi-hardness. It just had to become something else, something he couldn't put into words, something that scared the loving life out of him. He felt like a boy that knew he'd be punished for jerking it but still couldn't stop, couldn't help it, couldn't change his own treacherous body.

'_And that man, that fucked-up… he just had to say those… no don't think of that...'_

But he had to. He had to think of it, he couldn't stop thinking of it, the details came in flashes, polaroid photos that felt like slaps to his face. That voice, the man's skin, his almost-stubble, his breath, his eyes… his eyes…

He'd never get those eyes out of his head. He'd live his life with them looking down at him from above at night, he'd feel them on his skin every time he had to strip, he'd see them look back from mirrors, ready to bite. Bite him again. Mark him, make it clear who he belonged to. And he'd feel the hands on him, he'd feel the arms gathering him up, he'd always feel the lips on his face, on his own, kissing blood into him, he'd always shiver for that thought. He'd always taste arousal on the tip of his tongue when he thought of that red.

'_What's wrong with me… nobody should get… nobody should… enjoy that… it's sick… he's sick, he's a pedophile piece of shit, he...'_

'_...said I was beautiful...'_

'_While FUCKING me, god! God… why didn't I strangle him his sleep… I could have...'_

'_...he said I was his now...'_

'_FUCK him! I'll tell the police, i'll go to the police and tell, I'll… I'll...'_

'_...never forget the way it felt to have him tear into me...'_

His feet froze. His breath was high, quick, a flutter of wings. His smudged sapphire eyes cleared to bright jewels again. Pain was a constant burn in the small of his back, in his buttocks, in his neck, but it paired with an enticing tingle below his navel that took his wits away.

'_Hold onto me...'_ he heard. A shudder wrecked him, pushed him into walking again. His arms curled around himself, he staggered on.

'_I'll tell the police… I will… I will… I'll tell them what that bastard has done to me...'_

The moment he's thought of that he knew he would never tell anybody. He would never be able to form the words 'I've been raped' to a third party. A part of him just wanted to forget all about it. Put it away, hide it, lock it up, make it like it had never happened. It would be for the best… don't let this get to him, don't let it become something that defined him, don't let it become a part of him…

Killua found himself in front of the dorms he lived in. He had moved to a boarding school to escape the various atrocities his two elder brothers had always put him out to. '_...and I get this shit done to me anyways… what the hell is wrong with my karma…?'_

He slipped past the snoozing, elderly guard and walked up to his room. He was alone in it, thank god for small favors. He looked at his towel laid out to dry on the heater and his lips twisted roughly. '_Yeah, I feel filthy… however cliché that sounds… but not because he touched me...'_

He picked up the towel and went to the small adjoined bathroom he shared with the kids in the next room. He locked both doors then stepped into the shower clothed. He ran the hot water and allowed his knees to buckle. He slid to his knees, huddling against the cold tiled walls. His lips quivered, but the tears still wouldn't come, mocking him with the way they stung his eyes and then refused to fall.

'_...why am I hard…? God…'_

With a small whine, he dug his hand into his groin, feeling his arousal throb into his palm. Seething between his teeth he twisted his hand, tried to hurt himself, make it go away, but as the agony flooded through him, he felt a warm, soft tickle against his backside. Ghost touches stroked the ravaged hole there… or was that water? He didn't know, he couldn't tell. Words like bad prophecy echoed in his head, beautiful and terrifying.

'_Curse me all you want, kill me, don't care, you'll be mine, always…'_

"Ha…"

A moan stumbled past his bruise-painted lips and he squeezed his eyes shut against reality. He curled into himself and ground his teeth against another shaky noise as his hand slipped past the fabric of his clothes and stroked, pulled, caressed.

The soft, warm tickle inside was there again, teasing him, damp and exciting and sickening. Killua focused on that, locked out the bewildered, panicked, outraged thoughts banging on the walls of his mind. He felt the man's tongue between his thighs again, felt it tease him open, felt it caress something precious and sensitive inside that sent jolts of wild pleasure through him. God, that felt _so good_… he would never forget that either. Or the way that handsome face screwed up in pure bliss when he-

"HA-!"

His eyes shot wide open, his small, thin figure jerked with a violent, painful orgasm. The water pouring from the showerhead above washed the evidence of his depravity away. But it could never wash away the cum trickling softly inside him.

"Jesus…" He sobbed, pressing a shaky, cold hand to his lips. It smelled of his own cum and he wanted so bad to be disgusted by that, but the nausea never came. '_What have I just…'_

An hour later, when he was lying in bed dressed in his pyjamas, he was glaring at the wall across. He was still aching all over, but at least his mind was set.

It had been foolish of him to imagine he could just put this behind himself. It had been beyond foolish to think he could ignore it. It had irremovably become a part of him. He didn't know in what way yet, wasn't sure what it had changed about him, but he was dead sure about one thing: he would never think of forgiving the man.


	3. Third Bite

**Third Bite**

x

When Seto woke, he was disoriented, had no idea what he was doing sleeping on the couch. There was a pleasant hum of ache in his body that made him feel aware of the fact of living, but he couldn't revel in it longer than a minute. The memories came flooding back, the details magnified through the panic that seized him. Still naked, he staggered across his office, grappled for his fallen suit jacket and groped out a cigarette. He stuck it between his lips and breathed through his nose, never lighting it. He sat on the soft carpet, his sure hands shaking, his steel eyes blown wide in the shock of what he's done.

'_I've taken that kid and...'_

His guilt wasn't born naturally, however. His brain registered it not because of the universal morals normal people possessed, but because his mind immediately supplied a counterbalance image of his own violation. He saw himself in the boy and he saw his stepfather's associates in himself, people he has murdered himself, people he despised, people he swore he would never compare himself to. And yet, it had finally come down to this.

"Look at all this power I have and I can still not undo this…" He muttered around his cigarette, rubbing his scalp with the ball of his palm. "Well… better that way… this proves what a piece of shit I really am… good…"

He pulled himself together, stood and numbly gathered his clothes. He dressed, rubbed the almost-stubble on his chin and grunted in the back of his throat. He spat the cigarette from his mouth.

He still tasted the boy on his tongue, his spit and blood, both sweet as candy. His scent, his silk skin, his thrilling, lovely cries, every memory of him was soaked into him, clinging to his mind, building into his bones.

At the same time, he heard the cracks of a whip, he felt the sting of it bite down into the small of his back, his thighs and buttocks, he felt the hands from years ago, he felt the disgusting kisses again, he felt the pain where it should never hurt, and again, like he hadn't in years, he felt the squeeze of the collar around his throat.

"Gh…!" His airpipe locked up and he coughed, blinking hard. He grabbed his neck, clawed the skin as though there really was something cinching his throat closed, he just couldn't take it off. His lips were turning blue. He struggled to get a hold of himself again, to force himself to breathe right, to tell his genius brain that no, no, the squeeze was not real, he didn't need to choke to death for an age old memory, come on, he _COULDN'T GIVE HIM THAT PLEASURE!_

"HAHHHH…!" He gasped in air, hacked and coughed, bent over on the floor, looking pitiful and hating it. His ego, that carefully constructed wall around the crooked, battered thing inside, creaked under the sudden blow to it. His eyes watered and he wiped at them with the back of his hand. Wheezing, he felt a dull ache burn in his neck and he felt wetness there. He didn't realise that he was bleeding.

He'd never get any work done that day, he knew that already. As to what he would do that day, he had no clue and it pissed him off. Kaiba Seto was never at a loss. He was never out of his wits, he never faced a challenge he couldn't tackle, he never made a mistake he couldn't make right later.

'_...how do you make something like that right? Nobody has ever made it right for me. I'll carry it around like dead weight for the rest of my life. Can it even be made right? Is it something that you can heal?'_

He stared at his personal phone. When had he taken it out…? Numbly, he smoothed his thumb over the screen, counted the names.

_Ankerya_

_Greed_

_Hawkeye_

_Klive, Dr._

_Leona-chan_

_Orihara_

_Yoko-san_

Was he honestly thinking of asking for help with this? How cowardly was that? It felt like asking someone to forgive him for what he's done, to tell him it was okay, that he could make it up to the boy, he wouldn't have to worry.

Fuck that. He _wanted _to worry.

He tucked the phone back into his pocket and picked up his monitor, looking at it. It was smashed, but probably nothing he couldn't repair. New parts, a little soldering and…

He hauled it across the room with a ragged, furious howl and it crashed into the wall. Panting, he marched over to it and stared at the shattered electronics. In his head, a deep, cigar-roughened voice echoed like ghosts from a past long forgotten.

'_...that's all you're good for, look at that, look long and hard, that's what you are, you break objects, you break people, you break everything and everyone around you because you're a fucked-up, insane monster, that's what life gave you, that's why your parents tried to kill you, that's why your brother left you too. You will never set that boy right again. If you go to him now, you'll just make it worse-'_

"If I turn my back on him now, I'm not the man I want to be." He told the broken monitor. He bent down and picked it up, laid its pieces on the couch. He'd repair it later. Soldering always soothed his nerves.

He breathed out, rubbed at his aching neck. When he glanced at his hand and saw that it was red, he didn't feel a thing. His mind was full of the boy. He would go and see him. He would tell him clearly what happened and why and he would ask him to never forgive.

Let him never wash this off. Like all the rest of the wrongs he's done, he'll frame it like a picture and remember it. That way, he'll never become like Gozaburo. He will never fall into the mistake of ignoring the the awful truth that he was a monster. He couldn't afford to or he would find himself someday stepping over all the boundaries he's set for himself. As he always said, only a Kaiba could say no to a Kaiba. If he never said no to himself, he'd be sitting in a throne made of human limbs by now…

He dug out another cigarette and he lit it this time. Smoking stick after stick, he took out his laptop and sat down in front of it to work on finding the boy. He had no idea what he'd say to him exactly… he'd have to ad-lib it, see how he reacted, see what he said first. Then he'd tell him. He'd find the words. Maybe he'd just say the absolute truth, the gist of it.

'_...what poor excuse for a human I am...'_

He sighed, smoke pouring from his lips. He pressed the butt out on the top of his mahogany desk, lit another cigarette. The picture on the screen seemed to sublimate and squeeze into his pores like pollution, travelling down the highway of his veins to begin culminating in his heart.

The boy really was wildly beautiful.

'_...I'm going to tell him that, too… I'm going to keep saying it until he believes me, because he has to know. He has to get it. He has to understand that it wasn't his fault, but I couldn't say no to my greed this once. He'll have to know that even if I'm the worst piece of shit on this planet… even if he never wants to look at me again, I'll… always want to have him… that's unchangeable…'_

He sent the address of the dorms to his phone then got up and left his office. Messy as it was, he couldn't focus on something as ridiculous as tidying it. He had nothing on his mind but the boy. That boy. Killua Zoldyck...


	4. Fourth Bite

**Fourth Bite**

x

The man was outside. He had come here, he was standing right in front of the door to his room and Killua was alone in his mind with his fear. Rooted to the floor in panic, his gaze was fixed to the knob and lock, as though he was keeping the door shut through sheer willpower. The knob turned, rattled, didn't give. Killua's heart throbbed in his throat as he heard some minute shuffling from the other side.

'_He must be here to ask me not to tell anyone. He probably wants to pay me off… maybe threaten me… or even kill me, knowing who he is. I have to run. I have to run. I have to-'_

"I'm going in, Killua!"

Without further ado, the lock clicked. A second too late, Killua dashed for the door that led to the bathroom he shared with the next room. The door never slammed shut behind him. A pair of powerful arms grabbed him up around the waist. His small back smacked into a broad, hard-as-steel chest and he kicked out at once. He strained, bucked, flailed his legs, clawed at the arms around his waist but that grip, god, that grip could crush his ribs ('_or the world'_) if it just tightened. The scream that wanted to tear from his throat was stuck in his windpipe, bruising him, aching in desperation. It only broke free when he was tossed onto the bed.

"GET AWAY FROM ME…!"

'_-tossed me, he did that back then, onto the desk, he's back for more, I can't believe it, no, no-!'_

Wheezing, he kicked himself along the bed, pressing into the wall, his gaze flickering around, looking for an opening. The man stood a distance from him, maybe he could dash past, god, but he was fast, he would snap his neck before he took three steps, WHY didn't he just strangle him in his sleep?!

And even if he managed to run where would he go? Where in the world was a place where the White Dragon of Tokyo didn't reach? He was trapped, caught, forever a prey now, he had been marked, he would never escape, the man had meant what he had said; he would always be his, no going back anymore.

Something fell on the bed beside him.

"You know how to use one, right? You're a Zoldyck."

It was a gun, a Glock 19. To Killua, it looked unreal, like a prop forgotten on a movie set that didn't belong there. He scooted away from it without meaning to, feeling like it might bite him any second. His breath rushed in and out past his lips, chapping them, drying his tongue. He swallowed, got nothing but air down. His heart was a drum in his chest, playing a melody built of fear and desperation.

"Come on. Pick it up. The magazine is full."

He looked up at the man. The regal face was set in an expression of grim determination. Seto held his gaze, his steel eyes unreadable as ever, timeless with their intelligence, yet too-wise with the tiny wrinkles in the corners. His sharp nose and perfectly angled jaw line defined his looks, but the thin lips ('_that tasted of cinnamon and were searing with kisses'_) drew Killua's eyes the most, spoke to his most carnal thoughts by just existing.

His heart throbbed, and blood rushed down.

'_...he's gorgeous...'_

'_What am I even thinking, what is he saying, what does he want me to do?!'_

Incredulous, he snorted, and did his best to keep his voice steady. "...are you crazy? If I pick that up, I'll shoot you."

'_...christ, his lips… did he almost smile just now…?!'_

"I'm aware you might. But I can't expect you to feel safe around a rapist without protection."

Killua's head snapped to the side as though the words have slapped him. His small mouth closed tight and his hand inched closer to the gun. His fingertips caressed the muzzle. It was no plastic toy; the Glock was real. "Don't use that word." He whispered, only moving his eyes to look at the man. He saw him quirk his eyebrow in question.

"What word?"

Teeth sharp as a knifeblade gleamed white between his lips.

'_God DAMN his… who cares?! Why is he so attractive…?! What is it about him… he's a monster, right? I know he is… I'm still aching all over-'_

'_...and it feels good. It does. No matter what I say, it feels so good when it stings. He's fucked me up too and I can't go back… can't ignore it...'_

Killua wrapped his fingers around the gun and lifted it. "Rape. I don't want you to call it that." His voice held steady, carefully carved ice. He undid the safety and as he turned back towards him he pointed it at the man's chest.

He never flinched or showed any sign of fear. Instead, rather matter-of-fact, he asked, "Wasn't it that?"

'_No, it wasn't.'_

Killua battled the need to blink. His neck and backside were throbbing as if to forcefully remind him. He had gone with the man when he whisked him away, he may have tried telling himself he had no idea what was going to happen, but he had known who was holding his hand, he had known very well, and still... "You're insane. You have to be." He said. Wasn't sure if it mattered or not, but he said it anyways. "Giving me a gun-"

"You have yet to shoot me." Seto cut him off. "I no longer think you will pull the trigger. Which puzzles me, but plays into my favour." He walked over to the chair by the desk, pulled it out and took a seat so he was facing the boy. Killua pursed his lips; it was his chair and his desk. He didn't like how nonchalantly the man occupied the space in his room. Did he really think he was that important? His ego had to be bigger than his-

He almost blushed.

'_What the heck was I about to think…?!'_

"As to me being insane if you're implying I am mentally impaired in some way, I guess you're not far from the truth. I have a form of psychopathy." Seto paused. "I don't need to explain what that means, right?"

"No." Killua whispered. His throat felt like sandpaper. '_I have a brother with the same condition...' _"Complete lack of empathy, right?"

"A lack of universal morals, I like to call it." Seto clarified. "I'm not completely incapable of experiencing empathy or regret, just… not over the same things a regular human would. With that said, I don't regret what I've done to you, just how I've done it."

Killua's lips twisted and he shifted closer on the bed, raising the gun to point it at Seto's forehead next. His face felt hot with rage and his eyes stung. His voice came in a raspy hiss between his small white teeth. "How do you have the guts to say that? Do you hear what that means?! Do you-"

"I've taken an unwilling young boy up to my office and fucked him." Seto murmured. He folded his hands between his knees, elbows on his thighs. He stared past the barrel of the gun at Killua's face. "The part I'm regretting is the word 'unwilling'. Yes, I am a Kaiba, my greed is unmatched and what I want, I take, but… that was half-assed. Do you understand me? What I've done to you was shit, because I never took what I really wanted. I went for an easy kill and _that is not me_."

Killua's face scrunched worse in fury and he dropped the gun. He was on his feet, grabbing the man by the lapels of his suit jacket. He shook him, but that steel statue barely moved. Helpless now, he shouted, breath hitching, muscles tensing. "Don't you try make me forgive you! I-"

"I'm not asking you to forgive me!" Seto's hands clamped down on his own, swallowing the small fists, covering them completely. Killua saw his face change. The impassive mask fell, gave way to the image of a wounded animal. In that moment, it seemed like his human flesh was painted onto something enormously wild… a pure force of nature. His teeth chattering, Killua shuddered, tearing at his captive hands so hard the wrists creaked. "I'm saying, don't you ever dare! Don't you let me get away with this! I don't want to be someone who gets away with fucking up his own moral code! Do you understand me?!"

"Let me GO!" Killua screamed, kicking him in the shin, bending down to bite into one of his hands at the same time. His jaw throbbed, but he gnawed into the flesh, grunting, sobbing, tears blurring his vision. He hit bone, and still Seto made no louder noise than a hum of recognition.

'_Die… die you fucking monster, bleed out and die, I HATE you…!'_

'_...you want me to want you, is that what you're saying…? You want me to be willing…? But even then, I already...'_

'_I should have SHOT you…!'_

"Killua…" That silk droning voice uttered his name and the lips that hid the deadly teeth touched his temple in a kiss. Killua whined, squeezing his eyes shut in terror. The lips touched his ear next and a shaky, uncertain sigh was muffled by Seto's hand between his teeth. "Don't forgive me. Don't. Hate the me that's done that to you." His forehead dropped onto the boy's shoulder. Killua felt the weight of that head and nearly sagged under it. "I already do the same."

"...die…" He whispered into the mangled flesh against his lips. His teeth were on fire, his lips were wet with blood and his tears were pouring down his cheeks in hot, shameful rivers. He tasted sickening copper that reminded him of the taste of his own blood… waking a curious tingle in the pit of his stomach. "You fucking bastard… worst piece of shit… sonofabitch monster…"

"That's a perfect summary." Seto whispered. There wasn't a hint of sarcasm in his tone. He carefully removed Killua's hands from the lapels of his jacket and clasped them in his own. "But none of that will stop me from wanting you."

"Shut up." Killua breathed. His head was spinning. He felt like he was floating mid-air, suspended between a nightmare and reality, not knowing which was worse. Seto's voice in his ear reminded him of his kisses, everything he said, every touch of his lips anywhere on him reminded him of the kisses, the tongue slipping into his mouth, tasting of red, tasting of pain, tasting of complete bliss. Before long, he would want more of them, he feared.

"You're beautiful."

He stiffened, the words an echo from the night. He remembered the ghost embrace that held him fast and the horrible pain sawing into his backside, the sweet balance of romance and torture. '_No… no, don't…_

"Unspeakably so. Vicious. Irresistible. And I'll make you want me back."

On a subconscious level, Killua was aware that he would. Still, just to ignore his own mind, he asked, "And what if you can't?"

"Easy." That matter-of-fact tone. Seto lifted his head and locked gazes with the boy. Killua saw the roar of fire in the steel. The passion in that single stare was enough to squeeze arousal into his trembling body. "I will die trying."

He looked away. He had expected the answer and yet it managed to get to him. Foolish. Absolutely foolish. "...what happened to your neck?" He asked. His voice came flat from a tight throat.

Seto's lips twitched into a smirk around the blatant lie. "Shaving accident."

'_He's done it himself, this big moron… what the hell is up with his head?'_ Killua rolled his eyes, tugging on his hands for show. He didn't truly want to get away. "Whatever. Not like I care what you do to yourself."

"I don't expect you to." Seto shrugged his shoulders, straightening in his seat. He took his hands away and measured the boy. "I will keep coming to you. Nothing can keep me away. Do you understand that?"

Killua refused to turn his head towards him. His white hair all fell into his slanted eyes, shielding his expression. "Aah." He answered, his voice only shaking once. His heart, a treacherous young thing he couldn't control, pounded his ribcage.


End file.
